Divided
by HowlAtTheMoon123
Summary: Melody Prout returns to Beacon Hills after her parents' deaths. Here is where she reconnects with old family friends, starts teaching dance, and somehow gets mixed in with the supernatural world. Derek/OC - Rated M for possible lemons. This is going to be a slow-driven romance story.
1. Memories

**Chapter One - Memories (revised 7/17/13)**

I sighed deeply as I pulled into the long-term care facility in Beacon Hills. I've been avoiding this place since I arrived here a week ago and today I finally convinced myself to suck it up and be a big girl. Peter Hale, who was like a crazy immature uncle to me, was stuck in this place until he recovers from his wounds. Which unfortunately may never happen.

I looked out the windshield, my knuckles ghostly white from gripping onto the steering wheel so hard, and sighed. In times like this, I always gave myself a pep talk to get myself going. "Okay Mel, pull yourself together. You owe this visit to, not only Peter, but yourself. You never forgot about your second family in Hawaii, so prove it to him now. You need to do this." I smiled softly, nodding to myself in encouragement.

Inhaling, I held my breath for a few seconds, before slowly letting it out. I pulled my key from the ignition and stepped out of the car with navy-painted roses in my hand. I smelled them for reassurance, the scent bringing back memories of the Hale's, and opened the entrance doors. I made a point to walk extra slow and let all the other visitors cut in front of me to talk to the receptionist. Unfortunately, after a good ten minutes, I was the only one left in view.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss?" The redhead at the desk asked warily, not missing the show I performed just minutes ago. She must have thought I was the biggest creeper ever.

Swallowing, I met her stare and smiled. "Could you direct me to Peter Hale's room, please?"

Her stare intensified and she leaned her elbow on the desk, resting her chin in her hand. "I'm sorry, but only family and close family-friends, _with authorization_, are allowed to visit."

"I'm on the list, though. I have authorization." I said after a few moments of wondering how this hospital could hire someone so rude. She raised her brows, but before she opened her mouth to respond, I interrupted. "Melody Prout, family friend." I stated matter-of-factly, daring her to reject me.

Her eyes flashed with recognition, yet she still continued to type things on the computer and avoid my gaze. I peeked at her nametag: Jennifer. I rolled my eyes. She was the one I communicated with most of the time during these past six years. I would call once a month to see if Peter had made any changes. She was plainly simple with what she said and would cut me off short, complaining that she had other things to take care of.

"Identification, or driver's license, please." Jennifer finally asked with her hand out, eyes fixed on the screen. I complied, and after a few moments of waiting I was starting to get antsy. So, I huffed very loudly, catching the attention of a nurse walking down the hall.

"Is there a problem here?" She questioned, walking toward us with a clipboard in hand.

"Yes, there is." I said, and then continued. "I have been waiting five minutes for my information to get verified so I can visit a dear family-friend. Haven't seen him in six years and I would like it if someone could speed up the service." I pointed to Jennifer, who in turn glared at me.

"Let's see what I can for you." The other nurse smiled genuinely, grabbing my ID from Jennifer and taking over the mouse. She flipped her attention back and forth from the computer to my ID while mumbling to herself. "Hmm, Melody Prout, yep. Birthdate: July 20, 1988, correct. Lived in Beacon Hills, later resided in Hawaii – I always wanted to go there. It must be beautiful." I nodded, showing off my pearly whites. "Well, all your info is on point, sweetie. All you have to do is sign in the visitors log and head to room 302. It's right down the hall, to your left. Closing time is in one hour."

"Thanks so much … Melissa." I smiled after reading the tag on her scrub, the name tasting familiar on my tongue.

I made my way to room 302 and took a deep breath before turning the knob. I was greeted by four beige walls, with only two pictures hanging from either side of the bed. I moved to get a better look at them and felt my heart drop to my stomach. One of them was of the Hale House in all its glory, before the fire. The other was of the whole Hale Clan, as I called them, barely fitting in the small square photograph. I noticed both pictures were wrecked with burnt edges and rips. A tear rolled down my cheek - even the happy souvenirs were stained with the memory of that horrible day.

I looked to my right where a glimmer shined off an occupied wheelchair by the window. A lump caught in my throat as a sob threatened to escape my mouth. I took another deep breath and slowly made my way over to the motionless form. "P-P-Peter," I stuttered slowly, not expecting an answer but still hoped for a miracle. "Oh Peter!" I gasped, throwing my hand over my mouth as I turned his wheelchair over to face me. The left side of his face was scarred, and though recognizable, it looked nothing like the conceited Peter I once knew. I placed my finger on a long scar and traced it down to the collar of his shirt, where it covered the rest of it. Tears rolled down my cheeks while I stared into his lifeless blue orbs. I shook my head and held his hand in mine.

"To think someone could do this to you guys is still so, so crazy." I whispered, kneeling by his chair and forcing a smile on my face. "In case you don't remember, it's me, Melody." I patted his hand and stood straight when he made no sign of movement. "I sometimes forget who I am, too." I nodded, shrugging off the silence.

I looked around the room and noticed a vase filled with purple flowers. I snorted and laughed a bit, despite the situation I was currently in. "I should really let the nurses know you hate the color purple." I shuddered, turning to him and holding up the roses in my hand. "See? I got you roses, your favorite color!" I waggled them around, but eventually gave up and sighed at his motionless face. Grabbing the vase, I emptied out the water in his bathroom trying to keep myself company, since he wasn't doing such a good job at it. "Do you remember my eighth grade dance? I wore that purple, frilly dress. Thought I looked amazing until I rang the doorbell and you did this," I rolled my eyes and wrinkled my nose in front of his face, the way he had done to me many years ago. "I don't know what was worst, my dress or my date." I giggled at the memory and returned the vase to its spot on the furniture, new flowers in place.

I sat on the recliner directly in front of him. We had a staring contest – he won. I leaned back in the chair as tears flowed from my eyes. "You should know I wouldn't be here if there wasn't a reason for it." I sighed, bringing my knees up to my chest. "My parents they," I shook my head and continued. "They got hit by a drunk driver one night and died on impact. I never thought about coming back here, it was the last thing I wanted, honestly. But, after two days, I got my stuff packed and bam! Here I am. Come to find out their will stated that, when they were to die, they'd like to be buried in Beacon Hills." I let out a shaky breath, "I don't even remember their funeral. It was such a blur. It was like everyone was there to support them, but no one was there to support me. I have no one left but you," I sobbed, "And you can't even speak to me!"

I glanced back at Peter's face and sobbed some more. I didn't see even the slightest bit of emotion in his eyes. "I am so sorry, Peter!" I grasped his hands in my own and held tightly. "They say that you can hear us, and I just can't imagine how much pain you go through every single day. You lost your whole family so tragically and you can't even tell someone how you feel to get it all out. You must have so much pain bubbled up inside and I'm _so sorry_ you have to go through this alone." I squeezed his hands again, "Can't you say anything? Give me a sign that you can hear me, please, Peter…"

I sighed in frustration and banged on the armrests of the chair. I jumped up and walked in front of a furniture chest in his room. I didn't recognize myself in the mirror anymore. My once shiny, wavy brown hair was now dull and in a messy bun. I haven't felt the need to fix it since my parents' deaths. My lips were chapped, and my face was plain. I didn't even apply the usual cover-up to hide my freckles like I have for years. There were sleep-deprived circles under my striking gray eyes, and I can honestly say that, that was my only feature that hasn't changed - my eyes.

"Something is keeping me here." I whispered, turning away from my reflection. "I don't know if it's the fact that my parents wanted to come back here, and I don't want to be away from them any more than I already am, or something else." Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked for something other than his lifeless eyes to stare at.

I'm not sure how long I was looking at the pictures of The Clan when a knock sounded at the door. "Miss Prout." Jennifer called, breaking my gaze. "It's time to leave." She motioned her head toward the clock. "Its closing time and Mr. Hale is going to be placed in bed. Hey, where are my flowers?" She exclaimed, placing a hand on her hip.

"He hates the color purple." I said nonchalantly, too tired to match the glare. I noticed her eyes were now staring accusingly at the back of Peter's head. "If you could just give me a minute," I trailed off and she huffed, closing the door behind her.

"I'll get rid of these, don't worry." I winked at Peter and stashed the horrible purple flowers in my bag. I leaned in fairly close to his face and placed my palm on his scarred cheek, looking directly into his eyes I managed to croak out, "It was nice talking, Peter."

I ran out of the facility quickly, hiding my tearful eyes from everyone I passed. I noticed Melissa reaching her arm out to me, but I shrugged her off violently. When I got in the car I rested my head on the wheel to sob, sob, and sob some more. I didn't get the closure I thought I would get by coming here, I got the total opposite. I put the car in drive as my mind flashed back to that horrible day.

_Beep! Beep!_

_I giggled as I jumped out of my new car. I ran up to the Hale house, but didn't get the chance to knock on the door for it flew opened quickly. Derek appeared on the other side, "Must you wake the entire house every damn morning with that horn?" He glared. I was used to his bitchiness, even though it seemed to get worse and worse by day recently. I labeled it as a late-puberty thing, boys must go through that sometime in their lives. Sticking my tongue out at him, he responded with "And you're the older one?"_

_"Get in the car and shut it, dork." I laughed as he scowled at the name I had been calling him for years now. Derek and I had that strange love-hate relationship that everyone around us questioned. Strangers thought we were dating, friends figured we had gone through a bad breakup in the past, and Laura knew we just tolerated each other for her sake. It all started when I 'stole' his sister from him when we started school, he was a year too young to enroll._

_I rolled my eyes and walked in, smiling hugely at Derek's parents. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Hale!" I sang. Mr. Hale scowled into his coffee while Mrs. Hale offered me breakfast. "Oh, no thanks, Mama H! I'm stuffed." I skipped all the way up the stairs as Peter made his way down them._

_"Ugh, you need to stop being so chirpy in the morning, Melodeeeeeeeeeeeeeey." Peter said, his voice sounded sleepy and annoyed as he dragged out my name._

_"Good morning to you, too, sleepy head." I laughed, patting his messy hair. He slapped my hand away and made his way to the kitchen. That's when I pranced into Laura's room, "Good morning, Sunshine! Are you ready for another miserable day in school?" I questioned, waggling my eyebrows suggestively at her._

_"First off, how can you say that with a smile? Secondly, no, I'm not ready. I don't feel so good, Mel." Laura turned around and I noted her drowsy eyes._

_"When's the last time you slept?" I asked cautiously, walking to her counter and snatching the makeup kit. Laura was not one to get sick, like ever._

_"I've been having this weird feeling in my stomach lately." She confessed, shaking her head as if that wasn't at all what she was feeling. I walked over to her and she closed her eyes, allowing me to work my magic on her face. It really didn't need a lot, anyway, she was naturally beautiful. "It's like - have you ever had that feeling that something bad is going to happen? Ugh, I can't stop that nagging feeling in my head that's telling me to just stay home today."_

_"Laura, nothing bad is going to happen." I smiled, holding her arms-width from me. "Besides, everyone knows your family is bad ass. No one is going to mess with them, or you." I z-snapped cockily._

_"Do you promise?" She sighed, and I was going to make a joke until I saw the sadness and seriousness in her green eyes._

_"Promise."_

I parked my car in what I thought was my driveway and closed my eyes. I wanted that memory to go away forever because that same morning Derek and Laura got a call in the middle of second period. I was their ride, so the school dismissed me to drive them to their house. Minutes away from their residence we noticed flames and both of them jumped out while the car was still in motion…

_When I got to the Hale's driveway my heart broke into a million pieces. The fire was huge, uncontrollable, scary, and dangerous. The firefighters didn't get a chance to go in earlier and only managed to save Peter, who was on his way to the hospital. The rest of the family, who I was going to meet for the first time later that day at their family reunion, burned to the ground along with the house. Laura and Derek were being held back by multiple police officers who struggled against their attempts of breaking through their grips._

_I walked over to Laura who fell to the ground in defeat and exhaustion. My body, which also felt zombie-like, made its way over to my best friend. I fell to my knees and cradled her in my arms as she cried into my shoulder. Derek joined in moments later and wrapped himself around the both of us. I peeked up from my wet lashes and stared into his eyes. They were filled with the pain all of us were feeling and some other emotion – regret or guilt – I couldn't tell. His forehead was pressed against mine and I heard tiny whimpers coming from his closed mouth. He was trying so hard to be strong for his sister, and I admired that at the time._

_When everything finally cooled down my parents demanded the two stay at our house until everything was settled. It worked for awhile, us three kids living together, helping each other cope. That was until they ran away one night. We got a lousy call from them two weeks after their escape. It was from a payphone, untraceable, but the message was received loud and clear: they weren't coming back. Instead, they were going to stay with family-friends in New York, as far away from Beacon Hills as possible. I begged and pleaded for Laura to come home just as much as she begged and pleaded for me to understand and accept their decision._

_Our conversation ended that night when she ran out of change to keep the call going. Both of us were angry and not in a state of understanding. I never saw or heard from them again. They didn't give me any contact information and I had a feeling they wanted it that way. My parents hated how depressed their only child was and moved us to Hawaii, where we stayed until just a week ago…_

I wiped my eyes until I could finally see clearly. When I looked out my window I screamed in fright, staring at the forests surrounding me. I realized where I was and a traitor tear fell from my left eye. I unintentionally drove to the Hale House, if you could label it as a house anymore. Something must have been calling me here, so I took a deep breath and considered my options: I could turn around and leave or face this head on.

"It's now or never." I mumbled to myself, swinging the car door open.

I shivered as soon as I stepped outside. I wasn't sure if it was nerves, or the brisk wind that flowed straight through my body that caused it, but all I knew was that I couldn't go back in to get my jacket. I wouldn't have the strength to walk back out. Folding my arms across my midsection, I walked carefully toward the house.

Every step I took there was a crunching sound that followed it. I tried walking around the leaves and twigs on the ground, but considering the property hasn't been cared for in six years, I expected no less. I finally made it up the wrecked stairs and to the front door, where I stopped with my hand resting on the knob. It was fragile and I didn't even have to turn it for it to open. I just had to give it a weak push and it swung agape like it was hit by a bulldozer.

The inside of the house was a huge disappointment compared to the memory of it many years ago. Dark red walls and cherry wood floors were replaced with ash black, chipping wood that looked like it was going to fall apart with the littlest amount of pressure. I inhaled a great breath of air and coughed it all out for about a minute. The once faint rose-scented aroma Mrs. Hale made sure her home smelled like was now a lung-crushing, horrible stench, filled with dust particles and the memory of a fire.

I sneezed loudly, the sound scared me half to death."God, I am so jumpy." I whispered to myself, clutching my sides tightly.

I continued my journey to the living room where so many truth-or-dares, monopoly, and poker games took place. The room where secrets were whispered privately to Laura, yet everyone in the house seemed to hear them loud enough to pick on me for them. One year my parents went on vacation and I stayed with them for a whole week. Every night they came together as a family and talked about their day by the fire. I was honored they included me in those conversations during that time. This was also the room where Derek and I shared a kiss during spin-the-bottle and later shared a trip to the bathroom to wash our lips out with soap. I must have been thirteen, Derek twelve – it was my first kiss and only one person knew that. Laura.

I walked over to the piano at the corner of the room and wiped some dust off of it. Pieces of the ceiling scattered to the ground and I frowned, looking up at what was suppose to be a ceiling, but was the night sky instead. Running my hand over the surface, I closed my eyes and ignored all the scratches and dents that were not there years ago. Sighing, I placed myself on the bench and slid my hand over the keys, smiling that it still made a noise, even if it wasn't a nice one.

I was brought out of my daze when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn't bother looking at the caller ID and answered, "Hello?" I greeted, coughing out the scruffiness.

"Mel, hi." Brian's voice sighed out lovingly. "I've missed your voice."

I smiled to myself and got off the piano bench. "I've missed you, too." I admitted reluctantly, trailing a line of dust up the railing of the stairs, still not ready to make my way up them.

"How're you doing?" He questioned and I pictured his face full of worry on the other line, miles and miles away from me.

"I'm living." Was my simple answer, followed by a creaking sound as I stepped foot on the first stair.

"I can buy a plane ticket at any time, Mel. You know all you have to do is ask." I could hear the hurt in his voice, from when I told him a week ago that I needed some space.

"I know," I sighed.

"Why don't you want me there? I'd be with you through it all." Brian said softly, then added carefully. "I can help you."

"You're always trying to protect me." I finally said, then elaborated. "You'd see how scared and nervous this place made me and get us on the next flight to Honolulu. You would make sure that I never mention Beacon Hills again, or The Hale's, or call Peter's nurse."

"Melody, Melody, Melody." Brian sang horribly, interrupting me. "I only try to shield you from that because I hate seeing your sad face. You're too beautiful to wear a frown." I smiled despite myself, rolling my eyes at his corniness. "I made you smile, didn't I?"

Giggling, I answered honestly. "You never fail to." We enjoyed a comfortable silence for a few minutes before I broke it. "Speaking of moving on," I started, taking another step forward, then another, and another. "I'm halfway there. I need to go."

"I love you, Melody."

"Talk to you later." I snapped the phone shut and stared at a burnt door in front of me. There was a faint tribal symbol on it, one that I never understood. My eyes absorbed every detail of the paint and in my head I saw it the same way it was six years ago - beautiful, fresh, and confusing. I grabbed the handle and was about to walk in when a cold hand landed on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

My heart jumped to my throat and started beating wildly there. I felt a muscular chest come in contact with my back and, never letting go of the hold on my shoulder, this man turned me around so I was looking directly at his chiseled body. In my head, what I wanted to do was look up at this man's face, tell him a thing or two about putting his hands on a woman, and swiftly show him the door. But, we all knew that wasn't what was going to happen.

"Get out of my house." A deep voice ordered. His voice was so deep, so sinister, that it stopped my thinking process. When I didn't even twitch, the voice turned into a roar. "I said get out of this house! Never come back!"

I yelped in fright as his yell echoed and vibrated against the walls. I dropped my purse on the floor before bolting down the stairs and out the front door. I thanked the Lord that I had kept my keys in my pocket, not my bag. As soon as I was safely in my car I locked the doors and took one long glance at the mansion. I sobbed out my nerves and took off from the driveway.

I was never coming back here, meaning I would never get closure or move on.

It also meant I would have to cancel my credit cards tomorrow so Mr. Creepy doesn't spend all my money, or steal my identity, for that matter.

**Read and Review!**


	2. Miss Melody

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews/alerts/favorites! ****(revised 7/17/13)**

**Chapter Two - Miss Melody**

"Melody, you need to go to the police!" Brian tried to reason on the line.

At the moment I was pacing back and forth in the living room, looking out the window every now and then to make sure whoever was in The Hale's didn't follow me. When I got home, I called Brian up right away, sobbing and stuttering my way through the story. He listened quietly until I finished, insisting I go to the authorities.

"Melody, are you there? Melody! Are you okay?" Brian basically screamed, trying to catch my attention.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." I sighed, taking him off speaker. "You don't get it. I can't just go to the police because I sort of broke the law, too."

"Sort of?" Brian groaned, "What do you mean 'sort of?'"

"What I mean is, as far as I know the Hale's is still property of the state. It's an open case. I can't just stroll into the police station and be all 'Hey Stilinski, someone is up in the Hale House. How do I know? Well, I trespassed.'" I rolled my eyes, huffing. "You'd think after six years they'd find out who did it."

"Maybe because no one _did it_, Mel." I rolled my eyes at his tone. "You don't know that it was arson, it could have just been a mistake with the electricity, like all the reports have stated. Those things happen, you know. And you shouldn't be trespassing to find out. It's not your problem anymore."

"It'll always be my problem!" I almost yelled, catching my temper before it blew up completely. "The Hale's didn't make stupid mistakes, if there was a problem with the electricity they'd know right away and fix it. Someone did this to them, I know it."

"Alright, Melody," He sighed, giving up. "If you're not going to the police then I'm heading to bed. You don't seem as nervous as you should be. It's not like you could have gotten killed or anything."

"If you're going to have this sour attitude the next time I call then don't – hello? Did you just hang up on me?" I screeched, looking at the phone screen: Call Ended.

I threw my hands up in frustration, no one, not even my parents, understood how I felt when it came to the fire. I knew that deep down someone did it; the reason why they did? I would never know. The Hale's kept to themselves and really only communicated with the family. They rarely let strangers in unless they felt they could trust them. It took me a good three years until they allowed me to stay the night. It was Laura's first slumber party, she said, not including the ones with her cousins out of state. We were nine years old. So much has changed since then, yet so much is the same.

I looked around my house to clear my head. Plastic covered all of the furniture and pictures in every room besides mine, which I had taken off recently to sleep comfortably. I walked slowly into the living room and unpinned the plastic that hid the built-in radio. Smiling, I grazed my fingers over the black device, pressing play. A giggle escaped my mouth when the mixed CD I made myself when I was fifteen blasted through the speakers. I did a little dance, surprised at how peaceful I felt at the moment.

Skipping to the window I threw it open, loving the smell of fresh air. I saw a twinkle in my eye through the reflection and laughed out loud. I'm sure that if my neighbors saw me like this they'd think I'd finally gone mad, it was bound to happen eventually. I ran around the downstairs floor, opening all the windows wide and taking a moment to breath in the crisp, cold air surrounding me. It was time to get the smell of abandonment out of my home. _My home_, I liked the sound of that.

Music pulsed in my ears as I ripped apart every shred of plastic and bubble wrap I saw, exposing all the pieces of furniture and items there were in the house. Once satisfied with the bottom half of the house, I took the stairs two at a time, still in a daze, and worked on the second part. I walked into the bathroom and set a carpet down, loving the way the blue material looked against tile. Like downstairs, I opened up almost every window and dropped pounds of plastic in every room. It was already starting to feel new and cozy. Well, not really cozy considering it was freezing outside.

I eventually came face to face with a door I did not want to enter: my parents' bedroom. I sighed as tears made their way to my eyes. Forcing my lids closed, I took a deep breath and quickly opened the door. Surprisingly, I stepped back in shock when a familiar scent filled my nostrils. My eyes were wild as I looked around the room, almost expecting to see my father in front of the mirror spraying his cologne. Soon enough, when I sniffed again, I realized it was all my imagination. As fast as the smell came, it had went.

Frowning, I walked in slowly and wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my hands. I went over to the window, but before I opened it I took a huge breath for confirmation. There wasn't a single trace of the fragrance lingering. With that, I lifted the window and let the outside breeze fill the room, "Goodbye," I whispered. I wasn't exactly sure why I said it, but my heart dropped when I did.

It was time to snap back to reality, I concluded. I wasted too much time living in the past. While taking the plastic off their bed I wondered why they didn't take our old sheets with us to Hawaii. _Maybe they didn't want to permanently move there and only stayed for so long because of me_. My mood turned somber when I realized how true that sounded in my mind. They hadn't made any close friends in Honolulu and always made sure to check in on their old ones in California from time to time. They would frequently mention Beacon Hills and sigh when I flinched at the words. Tears fell freely from my eyes and I scolding myself for being such a selfish and naïve teenager.

Making my way to their dresser I let it free and opened the three-way mirror that stood upright on it. I had to do a double-take to make sure the person standing in front of it wasn't an intruder … it wasn't. I gaped lightly at my reflection. I looked way worse than what I did hours ago at The Crossing Home. My eyes, puffy and red, were brimmed with tears and my cheeks were stained with hot water streaks. My hair, well that was a totally different story. The bun I had put it in earlier was half out and loose, hanging right below my shoulders. Not to mention I couldn't even bear looking at my newfound cheekbones. They were foreign to me, an effect of the weight I lost after their passing.

I puffed loudly in astonishment, fogging the glass. "Ew," I whispered to myself, pulling back. I put my hand in front of my mouth and huffed, flinching at the smell. "Oh Dear God, Melody," I said, my eyebrows rising to my hairline as I scowled at my reflection; ashamed at what I have become this past week. It was time to start taking care of myself, I noted. My parents wouldn't want me to be like this. Then again, it has only been a week since they passed and I needed time to grieve, didn't I?_ Doesn't mean you can't brush your teeth more than once a day._ I rolled my eyes as my mother's voice entered my mind, instantly cheering me up even though her message was quite rude. It was understandable, she was a Dental Hygienist and I was seriously dishonoring her name.

Rearing from my thoughts, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I looked down at a text from Brian: _I'm sorry_, it read. I smiled sadly and nodded my head. I then remembered that he couldn't see me and quickly replied: _It's okay. Go to sleep – Mel._ I waited exactly twenty seconds when it went off again,_ I love you._ Frowning down at the words I looked back at my figure and bit my lip. Slowly, after a moment of thinking, I turned to the buttons, _I know – Mel._

I realized then what time it was - forty minutes past three in the morning. Yawning, I walked over to the window, closed it tightly, and locked it. I repeated this action with every window in my house, upstairs and downstairs, until I felt completely safe. Soon I was left in the kitchen with only my thoughts and not a single breeze for company. Stealing a cupcake from the fridge, I went to my room and stripped off my clothing. My mother always said there was no better medicine than a nice, hot tub filled with bubbles.

After treating myself to the water, I brushed my teeth vigorously before slipping into a deep slumber.

* * *

Waking up at noon was something I never wanted to get used to. Half the day was spent snoring and cuddled up in blankets doing absolutely nothing productive or rememberable. I wanted to treasure every moment of everyday, for the rest of my life now that I knew it could end so suddenly. The environment in Hawaii was too carefree and I was a victim of its calling. The night my parents were killed I was at a bonfire, laughing and goofing off with friends by the waves. It was something we did almost every week and my parents were the last thing on my mind during those moments.

By the time I finished eating a sufficient amount of food it was already one in the afternoon. I took a quick shower and felt my muscles loosen as the warm drops traveled down my back. After I finished I sighed contently, something I haven't done in days, and began rummaging through my suitcase for an outfit to wear today. After setting aside an entire suitcase full of sweat pants and shirts, I promised myself to throw them all away in a dark corner of a locked closet and go shopping as soon as possible.

I chose a pair of loose leopard pants and a black-studded shirt that was to be tucked into the trousers. It was comfortable, yet fashionable. Slipping on a pair of heels I looked at myself in the full length mirror and smiled. I was slowly starting to return to my old self, at least on the outside. There was no way I could ever heal completely on the inside, the loss of two parents is something no one should ever go through. Some days, I could barely fathom it myself. Granted I was an adult now and could take care of myself, but I was still young and the only two guiding people I had left in my life were taking away from me - at the same time.

Shaking my head, I made my way down the stairs and grabbed my keys off the television stand. I whistled the whole time to my car, twirling the keys around my finger to the beat I was creating. There was spunk in my step and I felt a whole new Melody taking over. I slid in the driver's seat and started the ignition but, when I turned to look over my shoulder, yesterday's events came rushing back to my mind. I felt foolish for almost forgetting them.

There, in the middle of the back seat, sat my red purse. The same one I dropped in the Hale House yesterday. "Oh my God!" I squeaked, reaching for it with urgency.

I emptied its components in the passenger seat and assessed its storage. My wallet held the same sixty dollars it did the day before and the pictures in it were stacked in the correct order. Two tampons, three lip-glosses, chapstick, a pen, notebook, and a bunch of purple flowers later I realized nothing was missing. What kind of murderer would return a girl's purse safely and not even bother to steal the money in it?

I really wanted to call Brian and rub it in his face that there was never a chance of me being murdered yesterday, but something stopped me. I froze in my spot and looked out the windows wondering if I was being stalked or on the television show 'Punked.' Either one sounded relevant at the moment because my license was still registered in Hawaii, so the only way this mystery man would know where I lived was if he knew me personally, or followed me home last night. I guessed the latter, but I wasn't a girl who went on instinct – I had to find out for myself.

_Finding out means going back and possibly getting killed – just forget it and be grateful you have your belongings_ - a voice in my head said._ You want to go back, though. You need that closure,_ another voice argued. I groaned, slamming my head down on the wheel.

"Come on, give me a sign." I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. As if on cue, a police cruiser beeped and pulled up behind my Honda, "Shut the fuck up." I whispered to myself with wide eyes. Did the guy from yesterday call and say I was trespassing? That didn't make much sense since he would be trespassing, too. I could definitely take this as a sign not to go back to the Hale's if I didn't get arrested today. My stomach did cartwheels for a while, trying to figure out my fate, when I saw the uniformed officer step out. Sheriff Stilinski.

I smiled despite myself and greeted him outside the cars. "Hey, Sheriff," I saluted and laughed awkwardly.

"Kiddo!" He exclaimed, engulfing me in a bone crushing hug. I really didn't know what to do so I just stood there, arms by my side, as the Sheriff suffocated me. "How are you holding up?"

I rolled my eyes at his bluntness but answered respectfully anyway. "I'm … fine." I muttered, looking for the right words. He nodded, catching my lie. "So, what're you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"I actually have to ask you a few questions." He said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. I, on the other hand, wasn't nervous around this man. He was like a second father to me, he and my dad were always good friends. They met at the bar years before I was born and hit it off, creating the most annoying bromance ever. Not to mention how close their jobs and interests were – my dad was a parole officer. He was the first person I called the night of the accident and I heard him cough out tears when he told me everything was going to be okay.

"You in there, Kiddo?" The sheriff asked, and I noticed him looking at me with concern. I nodded my yes. "Okay, well, don't get your panties in a bunch. Do you still dance?"

"What?" I asked surprised, my head jolting back in confusion. _What an odd question_, I thought to myself. "Um, I haven't in awhile, but yeah, I guess I'll always be a dancer. Why?"

"Well, you know the dance studio you went to when you were here?" Without waiting for my response he continued, "Mrs. Kian's husband had a stroke so she had to take some time off work. Actually, she's thinking about retiring early. She's the only teacher and there are so many kids wanting to get back on their feet. Without dance they might start getting into trouble with their free time, you know, get pregnant young, do drugs, start drinking …"

"What are you getting at?" I cut him off abruptly, getting impatient.

"Well, you're old." I raised my eyebrows at him, "Not old, but older. And you have experience with that type of dance: ballet. Don't deny it! I remember going to your recitals. I was wondering if you'd like to fill in there, just until we find a permanent instructor."

"I don't know." I answered truthfully, shrugging my shoulders. "I'm not exactly sure how long I'm going to stay here."

"What? Why!" He complained, groaning. "Melody, I am sure your boyfriend can wait a few more weeks for you." I gave him a pointed look, "For the kids. You were one of them before, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." I said bluntly, rolling my eyes again. "But I don't understand why you came to me out of all people. I'm not a dance instructor."

"Please?" He begged, clapping his hands together in front of him. "I think it'll be a good experience for you. And for the kids!" He added in quickly, looking expectantly at my reaction.

"Fine. But I'm only doing this_ for the kids_." I agreed slowly, nodding my head.

"Woohoo!" He cheered, pulling me into another hug. I gave in this time and embraced him tightly, he smelled like my dad. When he pulled back he glanced at his watch, "Class resumes today and is every day besides the weekends. Starts at four and ends at seven. When you're done there head over to my place for dinner. Stiles is dying to see you."

"You're cooking?" I questioned with a laugh.

"Woah, don't get ahead of yourself there, Mel."

* * *

"Hello," I croaked out, glancing at twenty wide, childish eyes. "I'm Melody, and I'll be – yes?"

"Is it Miss Melody?" A blonde girl asked innocently, she had to be at least seven years old.

"If – If you want. Or Miss Prout." I nodded, smiling as my answer seemed to please her. "I'm filling in for Mrs. Kian for a bit. And if you think this means you can slack, you're sadly mistaken." I pointed my finger at them and some of the older students' stifled laughs at the younger ones' faces. "Okay. Let's get stretching."

I watched as they all hurried off to the barres and noticed they seemed to be in little cliques. There were five girls between the ages of six and eight on one side, the only two boys in the class were on the side of them, facing each other and ignoring everyone else, the young teenagers were on the side of them gossiping, and finally four sixteen year olds crowded the barre in the middle of the classroom. I rolled my eyes: that was the instructor's spot, my spot.

"Before we start I'm going to do a little rearranging." I said aloud, interrupting many whispered conversations. They stopped and looked at me, "You four," I pointed to the sixteen year olds, "Get with the rest of the class. You don't belong there." Their lips pursed but other than that they didn't disobey me. With that settled I went over to each of them, learned their names, and rearranged their spots so all age groups were mixed.

"Don't you all look happy," I smirked, taking the teachers barre in the center. I ran my hands over the poles and took a deep breath. "Follow my lead but don't push your muscles more than they can go. I don't need any injuries on my hands." I faced the bar and planted one leg on it while my supporting one stood straight. "Keep your back straight, toe pointed, and do not let your hips turn." I directed step by step, watching each of them from the corner of my eye. Some seemed to struggle, the younger ones especially, while the seniors of the class barely blinked an eye as they got into stance. "Now bend forward, as far as you possibly can, and keep your back straight. Good, good. Do you feel that burn on the back of your legs?"

"Yes." A strangled chorus answered me, earning them an eye roll. "Do we need to do this?" I heard someone from the crowd ask.

"You bet your little ballet feet you do." I started, going into the next stretch. "Now, if you don't think you can do the next stretches switch position and repeat with your other side." Most of them turned around to stretch their other side, but a few stood still and watched me. "Okay, hold your arm like this," I carved it over my head, "Bend backward, and start with your shoulders. Don't overuse your muscles; just go as far as you can without your hips rotating."

And that's how the dance class progressed for the next three hours. We did stretches, splits, poses, twirls, and eventually I had them free style to some classical music. I got to talk with them individually: the ones that were either very talented or really bad stuck out the most. Eventually I learned that Mrs. Kian hadn't planned anything for the annual recital, the kids didn't even know what I was talking about when I asked about their choreography. I would have to have a talk with her sometime this week to change that. They also told me Mrs. Kian never did the moves with them, just simply instructed them what to do and when to do it. That was sad. As a visual learner myself, I felt for the kids who couldn't grasp the concept of ballet without having it demonstrated to them first.

When the class ended we all jumbled into the back to change into our regular clothes. I despised myself for picking today to wear my heels, my feet were killing me because of the lack of dance I had done in the past few months. I was too busy with Brian and my friends to bother with dancing at the time. When Brian pricked my brain, my parents' death flashed across my eyes, too. I couldn't believe how well dancing took them off my mind, maybe that's why Mr. Stilinski thought teaching would be good for me.

"Okay class," I said abruptly, making them halt at the door. "No one leaves without a parent or guardian outside to pick them up."

"I have a car," Brittany, an older student, said with a sneer. "And I take us home." She pointed to the other older girls. I nodded her way and watched as they scurried into a red car in the parking lot.

"And my mom's outside." "Mine too!" "Bye Miss Melody." "See you tomorrow, Miss M!" I waved one by one as the students piled into their parents cars, they seemed to like Miss Melody better than Miss Prout – I was okay with that. At 7:20 PM I was left with one student.

"Hey Angie, is someone going to pick you up tonight?" I asked sweetly, bending down to her level. She shook her head no and started for the door, "Well, um, where are you going?"

"Home," She said softly, "It's just right up the street, sometimes my dad forgets."

"Right up the street?" I questioned, and the look in her eye answered my question. Right up the street was where one of the worst projects in Beacon Hills were. My friends and I used to call it The Jungle. "Let me lock up, I'll take you home."

"Oh no, Melody, that's okay. It's only –"

"I'm going to be passing by there anyway, I'll take you." I smiled, interrupting her and locking the studio's doors behind me. She nodded reluctantly and started for my car. "So, which one is yours?"

"Apartment 312." She answered almost inaudible.

"You know, for a girl your age, you have a lot of talent." I said randomly, watching her cheeks redden. "How old are you? Ten?"

"Eleven." She responded with a slight smile on her face, "My mom used to be a dancer. When I was small she would teach me all crazy moves. She left my dad and I years ago, all I have left of her is dancing…" She trailed off, looking out the window. "Thanks for the ride." She mumbled when I stopped in front of the buildings.

"You're welcome," I said cheerfully, "Have a good night." She waved in response and I waited outside her apartment until a light flickered on, indicating she was safe inside. With a content smile plastered on my face I headed to the Sheriff's house for dinner.

For the first time in a while, my stomach growled in appreciation.

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	3. Encounter with the Devil

**Chapter Three - Encounter with the Devil (revised 7/17/13)**

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm coming!" An excited voice repeated from the inside of the house. I chuckled, covering my smile with my hand just as a bouncy teenager opened the door. "Melody!"

Before I knew it I was in the arms of Stiles, the kid I used to babysit years ago. Unfortunately, I wasn't expecting the tight embrace and squeaked loudly in his ears. "Stiles – can't – breathe!" I struggled to get the words out and thankfully he backed off, his smile not faltering a bit. I could practically feel the energetic vibes rolling off him. "Adderall?" I asked and he nodded fiercely, "You haven't changed a bit, I see."

"Nope!" He laughed and let his eyes travel down my body. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He was seven years younger than me; I smelled his dirty diapers for Christ Sake. He should not be checking me out right now. "But you, my dear, definitely have. Well, except for those, _those_ haven't changed." I instantly snaked a protective arm around my b-cup chest and glared at the kid. Sure, they weren't big, but I was a petite girl and they were average for my size. I think.

"Okay Casanova that's enough," The Sheriff appeared from behind his son making him jump a few inches in the air. "Stop flirting and let the girl in."

I sent a thankful glance over Stiles' shoulder and walked past him, "Smells yummy!" I exclaimed. I was surprised to see the interior hasn't changed over the years, but I guess I should have expected it to be the same. They haven't had a woman's touch around here in years. Mrs. Stilinski's face popped into my head and I smiled, she was a beautiful and amazing woman. "What's cooking?" I shook my head of those thoughts – the good always died young.

"I'll tell you what's cooking, good looking." Stiles playfully winked, casually throwing his arm over my shoulder. I rolled my eyes and stuck a finger out to poke his chest. It was playful, yet stern, I learned years ago that's the only way something would sink into his brain. He feigned hurt for a moment until we got to the kitchen table, where he held out a chair for me.

"We're going to need to have that talk soon, aren't we, son?" The Sheriff chimed in, watching his son's gestures from the door frame. My cheeks burned red and I stared wide-eyed at him. "I'm kidding, Mel." He said laughing, getting the food out of the oven.

"Wait, you actually cooked?" I questioned suspiciously, eyeing the pan he was holding with oven-mitt hands.

"It's leftovers!" The Sheriff defended when he placed the casserole on the table.

"Leftovers from Dean's Diner." Stiles whispered to me, earning a slap on the back from his dad. "Hey! Not cool!"

"It's fine Mr. Stilinski." I laughed out loud, taking the spatula from Stiles' hand to cut myself a corner of the dish. "I'm just really glad to be here. I didn't realize how much I missed this place."

"It's hard not to miss –" The sheriff began but was cut off by his son.

"-Stiles." We gave him a weird look and he shrugged. "It's hard not to miss Stiles."

"Hmm, I must admit, I did miss your goofiness." I cooed and he turned from his plate to look at me, wearing the biggest smile ever. "You got a little something in your teeth." I pointed to my own mouth and did a scratching motion to the two front ones. Stiles grumbled and grabbed his napkin right away.

"As I was saying," The Sheriff started again, throwing a warning glance to his son, "It's hard not to miss the place you grew up in. Whether you like it or not Mel, Beacon Hills_ is_ your home." He looked at me seriously, "Everyone has a past and I know this place brings back memories you want to forget, but you have to take the good with the bad sometimes."

"I know," I sighed, popping the fork into my mouth. "God, you sounded like my dad for a minute there." I sat rigid in my seat when I realized what I just said. Since my parents' death a week ago, I wasn't able to mention them aloud or talk about them with people so casually. But, here I was, opening my mouth like nothing ever happened.

"Yea? Well I've spent a lot of time around him; a few things must have rubbed off." The Sheriff laughed into his plate, my posture going unnoticed by the detective.

Stiles kicked my feet under the table and I looked up at him with blurry vision. He gave me a lopsided grin and shrugged. I guess if there was one person who knew how I was feeling it was Stiles – he did lose his mom after all. If my memory served me right I recall him having horrible panic attacks after her death. I happened to be babysitting him during one and freaked out, calling 911 in the process. I wondered briefly if he ever got over them, but Mr. Stilinski cleared his throat, catching our attention.

"Did you hear me?" I shook my head no, "How was dance class?"

"Oh," I laughed lightly and shook my head. "It went surprisingly well, actually. Some of the older girls need an attitude adjustment, that's for sure." I stated pointedly, watching the Sheriff's face turn into an amused one. "Don't even say it," I warned, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"What? I was just going to say thanks for filling in." He said, putting his hands up in surrender. "And that you were a trouble maker, too."

"Was not!" I yelled, breaking into a grin because I knew it was just too true. "Speaking of dance, does Mrs. Kian live in the same home? I was talking to the students today and I guess she hasn't planned anything for the annual recital in May. I was hoping to speak to her about it because … why are you smiling, Stiles?"

"It just sounds like you're planning on staying for a while." I shook my head, watching both father and son's expressions falter. "We should hang out sometime! Like the old days – bonding time, we'll call it. You can come to my lacrosse practices and games and I'll go to your dance classes if I'm free."

I burst into a fit of giggles, "You're on the lacrosse team? Has the season even started yet? How do you know you'll make the cut?"

"Everyone makes the team, Melody. How long have you been gone for?" Stiles asked, not taking offence to my comment. "School starts up again tomorrow, by the way. You'll get to meet Scott, remember him?"

"Vaguely," I muttered into my glass, trying to put a face to his name. "Wait, doesn't his mom work at the hospital?"

"She sure does," Stiles dad said, leaning back into his chair to rub his stomach. "Melissa McCall, ring a bell?"

"Oh! That's right!" I exclaimed, setting my empty plate aside. "I ran into her yesterday, nice lady." Now that I knew who she was, I started to feel guilty about the way I acted towards her yesterday.

I could tell the sheriff wanted to question me, but Stiles stood abruptly and grabbed my wrist, dragging me to the stairs. I protested half way up them but soon relented, knowing it'd get me nowhere. Soon enough I was pulled into a room - Stiles' room. I pinched my nose in disgust and tiptoed past random pieces of clothing and food on his floor. "Did a tornado take a pit-stop in your room or something?"

"Not now, Mel," Stiles groaned, walking past me and to his dresser. He opened all the drawers and turned toward me. I gave him a questionable glance before he sighed, annoyed. "Dad got me some new shirts for Christmas. I don't know what to wear tomorrow."

"You could have started with that," I said, taking over his spot. "Well, you don't have much to choose from. We should go shopping some time." I murmured the last part as he plumped down on his bed. "Are you trying to impress someone, Stiles?" I grinned, throwing him the outfit: straight legged pants and a t-shirt with a target symbol on it. It was the best I could muster up for his sad-of-an-excuse wardrobe.

"Lydia Martin." He sighed lovingly, staring at the ceiling.

"Whoa, hold up, hold up." I chuckled out loud, trying to keep my composure. "The same Lydia Martin from like, third grade? You're still hung up on her?" He grabbed a pillow in response and buried his face in it. "Are you at least friends with her?"

"She'll come around eventually." He grumbled, lifting the pillow from his face to stare at me. "Is that outfit hot?"

"I don't think you have anything 'hot' in this room," And as an afterthought, "Except for me, but you can't exactly bring me to school. I also don't think it'd help the Lydia situation."

He perked up immediately with a smile spreading across his face, "But it may make her jealous!" He suggested, bouncing in his spot.

"No, Stiles." I stated firmly, watching his smile disappear. "Sorry buddy, but in case you haven't noticed the jealousy game doesn't work. Especially since she doesn't know who you are…" I dragged off, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Not to mention the fact I'm twenty-three and you're sixteen – barely."

"Okay, so maybe it won't work on Lydia. But like you said, you're twenty-three and that will earn me some brownie points with the ladies. I'll look like a badass." He popped his collar cooly, ignoring my disapproving eyes.

"And I'll look like a rapist." I said, lying down on my back with Stiles at my side. He turned his head in my direction as I continued to count the ceiling boards. "I know you like, love this girl and everything, but you deserve someone who actually notices you and wants you for you. A crazy, older girlfriend shouldn't be what catches her eye when she sees you. If it hasn't happened by now it might not happen at all."

"Ouch. Right in the heart," Stiles grumbled, planting his hand over his chest as if I stabbed him. "Okay and what about you? Any boyfriends?"

"Yes and no." I sighed, rubbing my face. "It's complicated."

"What's complicated?" Stiles questioned, propping up on his elbow.

"He loves me." I whispered, looking into Stiles' curious eyes.

"Right! He loves you, horrible, absolutely unacceptable." Stiles paused, "Gotta be honest with you, Mel. I don't see what's so complicated here." I huffed in his face and was very happy when he didn't pull away like I did the other night. "The only thing I could think of is if – oh! – I get it now. You don't love him?" I answered with a shrug, "But you're leading him on. So, in a sense you're kind of like Lydia – but worst because you actually interact with him."

"It's not that I don't have any feelings for him at all. I care for him and I think I may be getting close to loving him, but it's not going to happen overnight, Stiles. He said he loved me three weeks into meeting me, it's been seven months now and I haven't been close to saying those words." I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Life isn't peaches and cream, Stiles. You need to snap out of fantasyland and take a step into the real world. Everything you say and do is accounted for and I would only be leading Brian on_ if_ I told him I loved him back."

"Defensive." Stiles whispered, earning a glare from me. Before he could say anything else on that subject, the shrieking of a telephone ringing was heard throughout the house. "Probably Scott," He got up to answer the phone in his room when it stopped ringing.

_"Hello?"_ We heard his dad say from downstairs, _"Yes, this is Sheriff Stilinski. Mary?"_

"Mary? Mary never calls!" Stiles said in whisper, reaching for the second phone.

"Stiles!" I hissed, slapping his hand away from the receiver. "You're still an eavesdropper." I stated rather than questioned.

"Yes, now take your hand away and be quiet!" He whisper-yelled, putting the phone to his ear. When his expression turned into shock I grasped his arm and positioned the phone in the middle of us, catching the last bit of the call. What can I say? I was curious, too.

_"Mary, why are we sending in the whole staff, plus the state police, if they've already found the body?"_ Mr. Stilinski asked. I turned Stiles with widened eyes. _A body?_

_"Boss, I assure you they're needed. You see, the most disgusting thing about this is that they cut the woman in half. We need to find the other half. Meet us at Beacon's Reserve as soon as possible."_ A woman's voice said on the other line, who was quite obviously Mary.

_"Alright,"_ The sheriff sighed, _"Let me tell my son I'm leaving. Thank you, Mary."_

_"No problem Stilinski."_

The line went dead then, but we were both too shocked to do anything but stare at each other. This was Beacon Hills for crying out loud! Murders, or any other crimes for the matter, were not common here. And to know it took place on the Preserve, close to the Hale house and where I encountered the stranger the other day, was not helping my nerves.

When the Sheriff's footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs and heading our way, Stiles squeaked and threw the phone at me. I only reacted the same way and tossed it back to him. We were playing hot potato with the device until the door opened. Unfortunately, Stiles was the last one to throw it and I was standing there, facing the door, with my hands and phone behind my back.

"Hey kids, I – uh – I need to go to the station and finish some paperwork I left behind earlier today." The sheriff lied, looking at the floor. "Stiles, go to sleep, you have school tomorrow. And Melody –"

"Go home?" I laughed nervously, "I'll be right behind you!"

"No!" Mr. Stilinski yelled. I stopped midway in my step and stared at him with wide eyes. "It's dark and I don't feel comfortable with you driving around this late. So please,_ please_ take the couch for tonight." I nodded numbly, which seemed to be satisfying enough for him as he turned on his heel and toward his car.

When we heard the cruiser pull out of the driveway Stiles and I let out a breath we didn't know we were holding. I placed the phone on the charger as fast as I could, as if it were the murder weapon itself. I rubbed my forehead and sighed loudly, seemingly breaking Stiles out of his trance. A laugh escaped his mouth and he ran around his room, grabbing a jacket, keys, and rope.

"Oh my God!" Stiles laughed like a girl, "Oh my God!" He repeated, a smile taking over his face. "Did you hear that, Mel? Someone got murdered and they're look for her body! In the woods! Isn't that great? I need to tell Scott."

"Wait! Stiles! That's what phones are for!" I rushed after him, following him out the front door. Grabbing his jacket in my hands I pulled him back to face me, "Are you an idiot? How is a murder great? Someone died, Stiles, and we aren't even supposed to know about it. So, if you still wish to tell Scott then_ call him inside_."

"You're not my babysitter anymore, Melody." Stiles said calmly, wrapping his hands around my hands and gently placing them at my sides. "I'm going to Scott's, okay? If you want to be part of our search party then you're more than welcome to tag along."

"Search party? Are you an idiot?" I hissed, throwing my hands up in the air as he rolled my eyes at my outburst. "Stiles, you don't have a badge, therefore you shouldn't be there. They're probably not just looking for the body, but the –"

"Shh." Stiles whispered, placing his finger against my lips. I glared at him evilly and he backed off quickly. "You can borrow a shirt of mine or something for bed. I'll be back before you know it."

"I swear to God, if you're not in this house in forty-five minutes I'm calling your father." I said sternly, both of us hearing the empty threat in my voice. "Be careful!" I said wimpy. He waved me off before hopping in his jeep. _Was I seriously about to let two sixteen year olds run around in the woods with a murderer on the loose?_ "Please don't let me die today," I whispered to myself, letting my conscious get the best of me. "Stiles, wait! I'm coming with you!" I ran to the passenger's seat and buckled my seat belt tightly. When the car didn't start right away I offered myself a sideways glance at Stiles, to see him grinning ear-to-ear. I growled at him, "Don't make me change my mind."

"Okay!" He smiled, starting the car and driving up the street. "Now, this is what I call bonding time!" Stiles chimed, "Are you sure you can walk in the woods with those heels on? It's pretty muddy."

I grunted, "Didn't think about that."

"Glad to know I'm with someone responsible." He teased, nudging me with his elbow. "Oh come on, loosen up a bit. It'll be fun! Kind of like looking for lost treasure in the sandbox."

"Except we're looking for a dead body in the woods this time around. That's not exactly my definition of treasure." I said numbly, but couldn't help the small smirk that made its way to my lips as I remembered planting toys in the sandbox for Stiles when he was younger.

"Well, it's basically the same thing." He concluded. We then parked in front of a house and he got out of the car, me following suit. "Can you give me a boost?"

"No." I answered simply, looking at the tree he was pointing to. "Hell no."

"What? Why?" He whispered, looking up at a small window. The lights were on so obviously someone was home.

"I'd rather use the front door…" I trailed off, placing a hand on my hip and leaning against the jeep. "Besides, you brought rope for a reason. Use it." I didn't get a chance to knock on the door when I froze in my spot and let out a million laughs. Stiles' attempts of inconspicuously climbing up the McCall's house failed miserably. A teenage boy stepped out of the door with a bat in his hands and looked around for the intruder. Before he was able to spot me, Stiles tripped and was hanging upside down from the roof with the weapon pointed at him. Their screams caused me to giggle, _"Boys."_ I muttered, shaking my head at the scene.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing!" The boy, who I assumed was Scott McCall, screamed with fear.

"You weren't answering your phone!" Stiles lamely defended. I huffed loudly at his lie and made my over to them, still going unnoticed. "Why do you have a bat?"

The long haired, brown eyed boy looked at the weapon in his hand and sighed. "I thought you were a predator!"

"I wouldn't put it past him." I cut in from behind Scott, scaring him enough to swing at my arm with the bat. "What the fuck, man!" I yelled, grabbing the bat from his hands before he could strike again and threw it across the porch. "Ow!" I seethed, smacking him upside his head.

"Who the hell are you?" He yelled, backing away from me and into Stiles, who somehow managed to get down from the situation he put himself in.

"Melody, Scott. Scott, Melody." Stiles answered in a bored sigh. "She's cool man, no worries. Now shut up and listen to me." The smile once again took up his features, "I saw my dad leave like twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called: they're bringing in every officer in the Beacon Department and even state police." His voice rose excitedly when he finished his sentence.

"For what?" Scott asked, still looking at me strangely.

"You are going to regret asking that question." I told him, offering him a smile to see if he would loosen up. Thankfully he did and offered me his own - a truce.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods." Stiles shrugged. I walked over to him and pulled a twig out of his hair, squealing as a bug started to crawl its way up my arm.

"A dead body?" That Scott kid asked stupidly.

"No, a body of water! Yes, dumbass, a dead body." Stiles rolled his eyes, flicking yet another bug from my arm. This is exactly why I hated nature.

"You mean like murder?" Scott asked, but this time there was a hint of a smile on his face.

"Nobody knows yet. Only that it was a girl, probably in her twenties." I frowned when I found out this new information – I was a girl in my twenties. The thought sent a shiver up my spine.

"Hold on! If they found the body then what are the looking for?"

"They – they only found half." I muttered, looking up to see the gleam in both boys' eyes. "You didn't tell me you had a twin, Stiles. You're both equally as disgusting."

"We're going." Stiles said, Scott nodding in agreement.

We made our way to the jeep and I let the boys have their fun in the front as I hung out in the back. I wasn't really paying attention to them, for all they were talking about was school, lacrosse, and girls. I mentally rolled my eyes at the last part – these boys had no experience whatsoever in that department. Snapping out of my thoughts I looked at Scott, who had turned completely in his seat to stare at me.

"What?" I questioned, leaning forward.

"I – I'm sorry about your parents." He murmured before opening the door and offering me his hand. I took it sadly and looked at the sign in front of us: Beacon Hills Preserve. No Entry After Dark.

"Oh, well look at that," I laughed nervously, reading it out loud. "Too bad, so sad; we tried, let's go!"

"No way," Stiles said, pulling me to his side. I groaned, letting my head fall against his shoulder.

"Are we seriously doing this?" Scott asked, and I secretly hoped he was having second thoughts.

"You're the one always bitching about how nothing happens in this town." Stiles reacted quickly, pulling out two flashlights. He handed one to me and kept the other securely in his hand.

"After you," I suggested to Scott, nodding my head in the direction Stiles trailed off to. Before following the boys I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and looked between the trees for any threats. I clasped my hands together and reluctantly walked to what could be my death, catching the last of Stiles' comment.

"… Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetic, unrealistic one."

"Like Lydia Martin falling for you?" I asked jokingly.

"Not funny." Stiles yelled, turning his back to me.

"Actually, that was kind of funny." Scott laughed, his voice labored. "Just out of curiosity, what half of the body are we looking for?"

"Huh," Stiles stopped for a moment, "I didn't even think about that."

By this time I was on the side of Scott, directing the light in front of us. "And uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here?"

"Now that's a good question," I whispered from my spot, teeth chattering against each other.

"Also things I didn't think about." Stiles chuckled, running up a hill.

"Well, it's nice to know you planned this out with your usual attention to detail." Scott managed to get out in between wheezes. I looked at him in concern but he turned his face from me, "Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?"

"Oh my God! You have asthma?" I whispered when he pulled an inhaler from his pocket. "What the hell were you thinking? Is everyone your age as stupid as Stiles?" He crouched down by a branch and in the far distance was a group of people holding flashlights. Death sounded better than being attacked by one of those hound dogs right now. "You know what? I'm going to wait in the car. Here, take the flashlight." I handed it over to Scott and looked at the darkness behind me.

"How're you going to find your way back?" Stiles whispered from his position, sparing me a glance from behind his shoulder.

"The moon will be my light." I said, looking up at its almost-round shape. "We only walked straight anyway, I'll be fine."

Before they could protest I walked swiftly away from their hiding spot and in the direction we came from. I managed to skip over branches, twigs, rocks, and even a boulder with barely any light directing me. Testing my luck, like the fool I was, I jumped over a tree branch only to trip over a root and come face to face with the dirt. I groaned in pain but stood up anyway, feeling completely off balance. The heel of my left shoe was missing and I'd have no other choice but to walk barefoot.

I hesitantly slipped off my shoes and squirmed when my bare feet came in contact with the ground. There could be a ton of bugs and worms underneath them right now. When I turned to go back to the jeep, I almost fainted at the sight in front of me. The same chiseled body at the Hale house touched my nose and I wondered to myself why_ I_ had to be the lucky one to face off with the Devil two days in a row. My hands instantly came in contact with his chest and I pushed it with all my strength, proud that he stumbled and fell on his ass. My pride faded away when a hand covered my mouth and the body that was on the floor a second go was now behind me.

"Please don't kill me!" I cried into his hand and let sobs rake my chest. "Please! Please! I'll give you everything I have and I won't tell the police about this! Please don't …"

"Melody, shut up!" The voice commanded and I obliged, mostly out of shock that he said my name. My brain raked over the thousands of voices I've heard over my lifetime as I tried to pinpoint this one. I've heard it before, but where … "If I uncover your mouth, are you going to scream?"

"That depends," I nodded honestly, my voice muffled against his skin. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No."

"Then I won't scream." I tried keeping my voice even. Surprisingly my answer seemed to please the mystery man and I felt my jaw slack in freedom.

"You shouldn't be in the –"

"SHERIFF STILINSKI HELP ME!" I screamed frantically, trying to sidestep the figure in front of me. At that moment I felt something hard come in contact with the back of my head and my world went black…

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	4. The Girl I used to be

**Chapter Four - The Girl I used to be (revised 7/17/13)**

My head throbbed in pain when I came back to consciousness some time during the night. Panic was ready to set in until I opened my eyes and recognized where I was. The sheriff's couch was not the comfiest in town, that's for sure, but it was reassuring and safe. A tingling sensation on the back of my head caused me to groan out loud and, very slowly, lift my weak body off the cushions. My hand found the area that the pain was coming from and as soon as I touched the wet spot I hissed and pulled away. My fingertips rubbed together and even in the darkness I could tell what the liquid between them was.

Forcing myself up, I made my way to the bathroom and flipped the switch. My eyes instantly reacted to the light and I stumbled a few steps away from it until my back was leaning against the frame. Another groan slipped passed my lips and I opened my eyes groggily, blinking away the spots covering my vision. I shouldn't have looked in the mirror because I knew that lately, I never liked what I saw: my hair was filled with dirt and I'm pretty sure a few bugs were hiding out in there if you looked close enough, my cheek was scratched, and my fingers were tinted red. I turned my body slightly to get a better view of where the pain was coming from and the back of my hair was wet, completely drenched in blood.

At first I was confused, wondering why my head was bleeding, and then the memory came back to me … I was unwillingly out in the woods looking for a body with Stiles and his friend when I decided to turn around and head back to the jeep. I ended up becoming face-to-chest with a stranger, who apparently knows me, for the second time these past few days. Both occurrences I thought I was going to get murdered by said person but here I am, alive and well. With the addition of a small wound on the back of my head, of course.

I cautiously stripped off my dirty clothes and placed them in the hamper that was overflowing. I made a note to wash and dry them for the boys later - it was the least I could do considering they must have been the ones that saved me from the woods last night. My shower was extra-long as I watched dried blood and dirt specs fall into the drain. Unfortunately, there was only bar soap and shampoo in reach so I had to wash my body with the shampoo, refusing to touch the soap that the two of them shared. Once I was free from twigs, leaves, dirt, and blood from my adventure earlier, I swung a towel tightly around my body and tip-toed to Stiles' room. I hoped that the offer to use his clothes was still in the air, if not – oh well, too bad for him.

When I walked into his room I had to close the door quickly and bite my lip to restrain myself from laughing. There in his bed was Stiles, hugging a huge pillow to his body and whispering incoherent words to it. I thought I heard a _"mmm Lydia,"_ at one point but shook my head and let him continue his dream, grossed out by the fact it could be a dirty one. All my movements were slow and thought out as each one caused a pinching sensation to my brain. Sighing, I reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers to wear. I awkwardly tried to pull them up my legs while keeping a firm grasp on the towel covering my chest. It didn't work out as well as I thought it would and I fell to the floor with a bang, exposing my breast to the world. Thankfully, Stiles didn't even stir in his sleep so I was able to recover quickly and grab a Life Guard hoodie from his floor. Within two minutes I was dressed, up, and out of sight.

I went across to the hall to Stiles' dad's room to talk to him about last night's events. Considering the male from my encounters could potentially be the murderer they were looking for, I should inform the sheriff of all my run-ins with the mystery man. If he hasn't been caught yet I had an idea of where he could be hiding out. After receiving no answer to three knocks on his bedroom door though, I took my chances of walking in to wake him up myself. Alas, I came face to face to an empty bed and no sign of Sheriff Stilinski. Frowning to myself, I walked all the way downstairs and called the only number I had on speed-dial. After four rings they answered.

"Melody, what's wrong?" Came the sheriff's worried voice on the other line. I heard papers being shuffled around and items clank on the floor as if I had startled or woke him. "Is Stiles okay?"

"Nothing's wrong, calm down." I assured him, holding the cell away from my ear as a loud bang sounded through the speaker. The noise made me cringe in pain and my hand automatically started to massage the back of my head.

"I'm sorry Mel, I'm just really busy." He finally said after the ruckus halted. "Why are you up at four in the morning?"

"Why aren't you _home_ at four in the morning?" I questioned back, plopping down on the sofa. I grimaced when I saw the blood stained pillow on the side of me but ignored it for now to give my full attention to the sheriff.

"I'm at the station." He yawned, "Been working since I left at dinnertime. The guys are still searching the woods for the other half of the body. It's not looking so good, Mel."

"Speaking of last night," I started, only to be cut off.

"Hey, no need to apologize. I know my boy can be persuasive when he wants to be. I'm not angry about you tagging along with him. Actually, I'm angry with him for leaving you sleeping in that jeep while he went out exploring." He sighed, and I could almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Listen; can you do me a favor? I need you to…"

"Wait, wait!" I interjected him, speaking too loudly for even myself. "What do you mean by _'leaving you sleeping in that jeep'_?"

"Well, when one of the guys found Stiles peeking in the woods I walked him to his car. You were snoring in the passenger seat so I just assumed you were sleeping the whole time." There was a pause, "Were you sleeping the whole time, Mel? Did you see anything?"

"I was in the car when you got there?" I questioned in a daze, trying to make sense of the words coming out of the sheriff's mouth.

"Yes … I would say you were knocked out, really. You didn't even stir when I was yelling at the kid. But I know you're a heavy sleeper so I figured as much. Why? Is everything alright?"

"Knocked out…" I dragged off, biting my nails.

"Yup." The Sheriff awkwardly stated, "Anyway, as I was saying, could you do me a favor? Today Stiles has Lacrosse tryouts and I always whoop him up a nice breakfast that morning. Puts him in a positive attitude before he realizes he's on the bench again. I can't be there this year, mind cooking him something for me?"

"Sure." I exhaled, still trying to make sense of the matter.

"Thanks, I owe you." He said, "You should try going back to sleep for a few hours."

"I'm going to try." I lied easily, ending the line.

At that moment I heard an engine start up outside. I know I shouldn't have really cared who was trying to get to work early today, but curiosity got the best of me and I started taking small steps toward the front window. I pushed the curtain aside and noticed the hood of a jet black car parked just outside the house. I figured that, that was the care that went on because it was the only one I didn't recognize in this neighborhood, and for some reason it just _looked_ sneaky. There was a man in the driver's seat and I could have sworn his head was tilted my way, like he was inspecting me from afar. Furrowing my eyebrows I opened the curtain all the way to get a better view of the driver. It was dark but I could tell that he was a big guy. That thought ran my blood cold. _Could it be him?_

I jumped about ten feet in the air when a hand came in contact with my back and I looked over my shoulder at Stiles. I breathed a sigh of relief and stole a glance out the window only to see the car speeding away. Disappointed, I looked at the boy in front of me and noticed him eyeballing me curiously.

"What are you looking at?" He asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

Despite everything I couldn't help but chuckle at the site. He looked so vulnerable and child-like. "It's nothing. I just thought I heard something."

"Oh, okay." He nodded, yawning loudly. "How's your head?"

I gasped, "How did you know?"

"Well I basically carried you into the house. I noticed you were bleeding." Stiles scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "I didn't think you'd go far without falling in heels anyway."

"Yet you still let me go. Thanks." I sarcastically stated, rolling my eyes at him and making my way to the kitchen. "And for your information it wasn't _the_ _fall_ that caused this." I pointed out, referring to my head.

"Ah. So there was a fall!" He chimed, situating himself on a chair. "So if it wasn't the ground, how'd you get that? An animal?" Before I could answer he continued, "Possibly the same one that bit Scott. Or maybe it was Big Foot."

"Stiles, shut up!" I yelled, catching him off guard. "You're not even less annoying at four in the morning."

"It's four-thirty," He corrected, pointing to the oven's clock.

"Thank you, Einstein." I began, tossing a frying pan on the stove. "No, it wasn't an animal either. And what do you mean Scott got bitten? Weren't you with him the whole time? Are you alright?"

"Ah, so you think you're the only special one who I leave alone in the woods?" He smiled, "You don't get special privileges like that yet. Anyway, Scott was going to get caught by my dad so he laid low and stood in the woods by himself. When he got up some animal snuck up behind of him and snagged him; I don't know more than that though. I was asleep when he texted me."

"So you were sleeping in your comfortable bed while your best friend was trying to escape a wild animal. You're impossible!" I sighed, shaking my head slowly. "And I also can't believe you didn't wake me to see if I was okay. What if I bled to death?"

"I'll put thoughtfulness on my to-do list, Mel." He snickered, "Now that we're back on the topic of your injury, mind telling me how it happened exactly?"

I was silent for a minute as I watched the eggs sizzle. I had originally thought I wanted to warn the whole town about the man in the woods and Hale house, but now I wasn't quite sure what to do. Considering he didn't hurt me either of the times and unassumingly carried me back to the jeep, was he really a bad person? Or was he just someone who didn't want their presence to be known? All these questions raked through my mind in the amount of time it took to fry an egg. By the time the two were a perfect sunny-side up I knew what I had to do before I got enough information.

"Okay, maybe it was from me slipping." I murmured, ignoring the chuckles escaping the sixteen years old mouth. "You were right – those heels are horrendous to walk in. Stop laughing and eat your breakfast."

"Thanks." He stated with a mouthful of food. "I like your choice of wardrobe by the way," Stiles waggled his brows at me, catching an oven mitt in mid air before it hit him square in the face.

* * *

It was around one-thirty in the afternoon when I decided to see how Mrs. Kian was doing and if she could give me any information on the annual recital. I had already washed and dried all the Stilinski's laundry (including my outfit from yesterday which I had to wear again), furiously rubbed the pillow I was laying on until it looked brand new, touched up Stiles' room decently, and left a dinner for the boy's to warm up later. The Sheriff was still at the station and wasn't planning on returning home until way past dark. I felt bad for him since he was probably surviving off cups of coffees and doughnuts, trying to savage up any information on the girl and the murderer. Still though, I couldn't convince myself to rat out the stranger I had run into. For some reason something was telling me not to.

Another thing I had to worry about was Brian. For a man who worked forty hours a week he sure had enough time on his hands to text me every hour. I ignored the text messages he sent me, and not because I wanted to, but because I didn't know how to respond to them. Stiles words really hit me hard last night and I wasn't sure how to handle my feelings anymore. One part of me wanted to end things with him before we went any further, but the more selfish part of my brain wanted to keep him around for companionship, and maybe a _stress reliever_ for when/if I go back to Hawaii. I knew all too well how horrible it was of me to bluntly use a man for those things, but he was the only who actually _wanted_ me in many ways. It was unfortunate that I only wanted _him _in one.

I knew what my parents would say if I told them about the pickle I was in. My mom, the one who ran solely on emotions, would tell me to follow my heart. I would have responded with,_ but what if my heart doesn't know what it wants either?_ And she'd say, _Doll, all the answers to your questions are locked in there, sometimes you just need to take a little bit of time to fish them out._ My father, on the other hand, would ask me,_ aren't you a little too young to get mixed up with boys?_ not regarding the fact I was in my twenties. After the relationship 'advice' he'd say something along the lines of, _what do you think would have the best outcome?_ Even though his method of answering a question with a question was extremely annoying, I got used to it and would frequently climb onto his lap like a child and ask him a million of them, never to get a straight answer back. It did make my brain turn wheels however, and sometimes helped me with my decision making.

I sighed and parked outside of a familiar cabin-like home. I shook my head of the previous thoughts and mentally scolded myself for doing so: after all these hours my headache still didn't go away - the sunlight bothered me more and more as the day went by and any sudden movement felt like a hole was being drilled into my skull. Being the hypochondriac I was, I diagnosed myself with a mild concussion. I was accustomed to head injuries as a child so I wasn't too worried about this one. Of course, all my old ones were from dancing and never as serious as the pain I had now. Keeping the fact that a doctor told me my head must be made out of steel when I was ten, I shook off the dizziness and sluggishness and disregarded these symptoms.

I must have been thinking for a while in the car because before I knew it I saw a curious elderly woman making her way toward the vehicle. A smile spread across my face and I jumped out of the driver's seat quickly, slamming the door behind me. Her hand found its way to the crucifix that always laid around her neck and she gripped it tightly in fright. She honestly looked about ready to call the cops until her brown eyes found my face and she realized who I was.

"Mrs. Kian, I'm sorry for startling you." I apologized right away, grasping her hands in my own. "Do you remember me?"

"Oh Melody, how could I forget my star student?" She exclaimed, closing the gap between us in an embrace. "I'm so sorry about the circumstances that brought you back to Beacon Hills, but I also couldn't have asked for a better replacement."

"Temporary replacement," I mumbled against her clothing, pulling back to look at her. "You still look twenty!" I commented. Sure I was over exaggerating, but compliments on her appearance always used to put Mrs. Kian in a good mood.

"Oh hush, child. That would mean that I look younger than you." She smiled, grasping my elbow and leading me into her home. "It feels so weird to say that. Last time I saw you, you were an un-blossomed seventeen year old girl. Now you're twenty-something and my God, absolutely stunning! You could use some more toning though; I'm figuring you took a break from dancing back in Hawaii. Yes?"

"I might have." I admitted, offering her a lopsided grin and guilty shrug. "I didn't remember how much I loved dancing down there. It was a different environment and I guess my legs just couldn't get used to it."

"Silly girl," Mrs. Kian laughed wholeheartedly, offering me a cup of coffee which I denied politely. "The environment doesn't affect your talent. A real dancer can dance without music, never mind being in a new studio." She stopped to take a sip out of her mug before she looked me straight in the eye, "I had high hopes for you, you know. I always figured you'd be a world famous dancer, graduating from Julliard. What did you end up going to college for anyway, dear?"

I blushed at her statement, truth be told that used to be my dream as well. "Business Management," I laughed, assessing her expression. "I've always wanted a place other than a home to call my own."

"Well, not what I had envisioned for you." She coughed, scratching the back of her neck. "But I suppose it'll come in handy if you decide to take over my dancing studio."

"Oh Mrs. Kian! I didn't know it was for sale!" I spoke, catching her off guard.

"My God, Melody, it's not. _Not yet_, anyway." She added, "Do you think I'd give away my keys to just anyone? You know me better than that. I'd like to thank you, actually, for taking the job. I know that the pay isn't great but those girls need someone who knows what they're doing. Or have someone to actually be able to demonstrate the moves to them. My body is not what it used to be, Dear. I can't move around like I could six years ago when you were here."

"Of course, of course," I nodded, taking this time to get to the point of my visit. "Mrs. Kian, is there still the annual dance recital going on upstate? I remember every year we'd plan and rehearse for months just to get on that stage and show the judges are stuff. It's something I always looked forward to but yesterday when I mentioned it the students had no clue what I was talking about. I mean, the older ones knew _of _the recital and probably competed years ago as children, but they didn't know any new choreography."

"I was afraid you'd ask about that, Melody." She sighed, looking at me with a small smile. "I have neglected these dancers for some years now. I'll admit to that. My last competition was the year after you left. Michael started to get ill and I knew I couldn't leave him for three days alone in the house or for all those hours of practice – I used to cut class short so I could get home quicker." She sniffed, patting her dry cheek with a paper towel. I understood not wanting to leave her husband, who was ten years older than her, alone in the house but that didn't justify what she did to her dancers. "Dear, I would be so obliged to you if you could take this batch to compete in the recital. They deserve it after what little I put them through; I've cheated out their parents of their money and didn't give them my full commitment. But you … you are not a cheater. I have faith in your dancing."

"If I'm still here by that time I'd love to do that for you, for them. I'm not sure if I can come up with a whole routine though, Mrs. Kian." I sounded my concerns, watching her face drop to a frown.

"Melody Prout, what has made you doubt yourself so much? You used to be confident, _too confident_, in your dancing; I would have to yell at you to stop for crying out loud!" She proclaimed, "Do you remember your solo performance seven years ago? Who came up with that? Not me! You did! At only fifteen you had all this … all this charisma built inside you and now I look at you and I don't see any of it! Where is the girl I once knew?"

"I'm – I'm not sure I can answer that honestly." I stammered, biting my lip.

"Maybe it's my fault for putting you on too high of a pedestal when you were younger." She began, "I always praised you so much, even when you made mistakes - because you knew how to fix them. I should not have done that because instead of making you stronger, I have made you weaker."

"I'm not weak." I fought, straightening my back.

"Oh, you're not? Then why don't you prove it and get your ass working on a dance routine for them. Bring them to that recital you love so much!" She stood, me following suit.

"You know what, Mrs. Kian?" I started, making my way to the door. "I will. I'm going to make you proud."

"No, Melody." She called out to me, lifting her hand lovingly to my cheek. "Make _yourself_ proud."

* * *

When I left Mrs. Kian's house I went home and changed into turquoise skinny jeans, an oversized purple knit sweater, and a pair of Toms. I wanted my feet to stay comfortable before I gave them a workout from hell later. I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, too. It seemed like all I wanted to do was take each and every one of the students under my wing and teach them the art of dance. I wanted to do it right then and there but looking at the time, I noticed that they were only now getting out of school and heading home. Dance class was being held over an hour from now and I'm sure most of them didn't have twirls on their mind. I was glad Mrs. Kian used some kind of reverse physiology on me to realize what I really wanted in life – and that was to dance.

Even though dancing was my number one priority at the moment, I still had to focus on other important things going on, too. That's what brings me here now, sitting on the bleachers waiting for Lacrosse Tryouts to start. I knew Stiles would appreciate me being here as his dad couldn't show up today. He needed all the support he could get and I would be sure to cheer him on every step of the way. It was weird how after all these years the boy still had a strong effect on me, and not in the romance way, either. He was just a sweet and awkward kid who always needed attention and loved having me around just as much as I loved having him around.

I hoped these daydreams of mine weren't becoming a habit, because before I knew it a whistle blew out and the whole field was covered in scrambling teenagers. I stood from my spot and looked around for a familiar face which I caught instantly. He and Scott, who looked fine to me, were walking up the hill side-by-side awaiting instructions from the coach. I was saddened by the fact Stiles instantly sat himself down on the sidelines, not even giving himself a chance to shine. Sighing, I walked past the cheerful teenagers and sat down next to my favorite, cuddling myself on his side.

"Melody! You showed up!" He cheered, giving me a sideways hug and keeping his arm around my shoulders.

"Of course I did." I said nonchalantly, watching Scott situate himself on goal. "I would have thought Scott would be here next to you."

"He should be!" Stiles laughed, watching his best friend get in position. "He's going to get his ass handed to him out there."

"Hey, don't say that." I said encouragingly, "I'm sure he'll do great! By the way I got your text message. A wolf? Seriously? There aren't any around here. He must have mistaken it for -" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. "Oh, that must have hurt." I commented after Scott was hit square in the face.

"He's an idiot." Stiles mumbled mostly to him, shaking his head in shame. I shushed his comments and continued watching the game.

The next boy ran confidently toward the goalie, lacrosse stick in hand, ready to make a goal. I clutched Stiles' hand in anticipation for another blow to come, but surprisingly it didn't happen. The ball, which I had figured would hit Scott's body somewhere, landed flawlessly into his stick. My mouth opened in shock and Stiles seemed to be the same way, though he did manage to get out a happy 'yea!' I couldn't count how many failed attempts to score happened in such a short period of time, all I knew was that Scott shined like no other out there. It seemed to me as if he was born to play Lacrosse.

"Here's Jackson." Stiles whispered suddenly, standing straight. "He's the captain."

In sync the whole field and audience were filled with silence. I watched memorized as a bigger kid strolled out in front of the line. With his stick in hand he moved, as if in slow motion, so menacingly toward Scott that I could have sworn on my life that he would be the second one to make a goal today. But, like all the others, the ball flew straight into Scott's awaiting stick with a mind of its own. The whole crowd erupted in cheer and I heard Stiles gloat about Scott being his friend.

Laughing and clapping wildly I yelled over everyone else, "You go, Scott! I knew you could do it!"

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	5. Author's Note

**Author's Apology.**

Hello everyone! I want to start off by saying how incredibly sorry I am for not updating Divided. No, I have not forgotten about this story, nor am I ending it. I'm a junior in high school and I recently got a job, so I haven't been home much nevertheless have time to write. But, summer vacation is right around the corner and I will have plenty of time to get this story moving again. Please stay tuned for more chapters! Sorry once again…


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